


Book 

GoRyiiglitN® 

COPYRIGHT DEPOSrr. 






% 










A 


9 
I • 



4 m 



P f 


9 




# 




4 


i 



I 


» 


I » 



)' . 


t 

• # 



^ • 


» 

# 


# 




I S ’ 9 


4 ‘ 








I 


I 


ft 


I 






\ 







c 






i \ 




I 


f 



» 





♦'I 



9 . 



Extraordinary 

Mary 

By Evelyn Whitell 


A Little Child Shall Lead them.’’'' 

—ISAIAH. 







/ 


Extraordinary 

Mary 



By Evelyn Whitell 



732 ^ 


''A Little Child Shall Lead Them." 


Isaiah. 



Copyright 1920 
By Evelyn Whitell 


Published by 

Master Mind Publishing Company 
618 So. Spring St., 

Los Angeles, California 


©CU5735Q5 

JUL -9 1920 







Index of Chapters 


1. The Fairy Christmas Tree 7 

2. The Goldhn Butterfly 13 

3. The Arrival of Princess Lynette 17 

4. The Palace of Her Dreams 21 

6. The Teacher and the Flowers 25 

6. Mary Visits the Town 29 

7. Lame Peter 33 

8. Rosa’s Baby 35 

9. Mary’s Picture Show 39 

10. How Peter Learned TO Walk 45 

11. Transformation 51 

12. Saturday’s Story Hour 55 

13. More Miracles 59 

14. The Test 61 

15. The Night of Doubt 65 

16. The Joy of the Morning 67 

17. E^VERY Golden Dream Came True 69 


CHAPTER 1. 


The Fairy Christmas Tree. 

I F you had seen Mary you might have thought there 
was nothing extraordinary about her, but the extra- 
ordinary part was that everybody thought her extra- 
ordinary. 

She lived in a most ordinary house on a most ordinary 
street. The children all around were the most ordinary 
children, who went to an ordinary school, and were taught 
the most ordinary lessons, by the most ordinary teacher. 
But to Mary there was nothing ordinary in the world. 
Life was like a great, wonderful picture show, in which 
she was the chief actress. 

Mary was what the world might call an orphan. She 
didn’t remember her father, but she never tired of listen- 
ing to her mother’s stories about him. How he had gone 
far away one day on a long journey and had never 
returned. Mary’s mother believed he would return in 
spite of what people said, and every night she left the 
door unlocked and the light in the window burning. Every 
night, with her little girl, she would stand out under the 
stars and tell her that those same bright eyes in Heaven 
were watching over father, too, and wherever he was he 
would think of them at this moment. 

And then they would stand very still together and 
breathe a quiet little prayer into the silence, or blow a 
kiss into the air, and go to bed quite happy with the 
knowledge that he had received it, wherever he might be. 

The day came, too, when Mary’s mother was called to 
take a journey, and the little girl was seemingly alone. 
The neighbors pitied her and told her that her mother 
was quite happy, but she was confident of it without being 


8 


Extraordinary Mary 


told. She smiled and often laughed aloud with gladness 
when the bitter winter came. 

She and her mother lived in a house where they were 
often cold and hungry, but now she clapped her hands and 
said: “It’s good that mother’s where the sun is shining, 
and where the cold can’t get in through the doors.” 

Sometimes when walking through the blinding drifts of 
snow she would try and picture such a land. 

Sometimes she would see nothing but the drifts, and 
then sometimes, just like a dream, a soft, warm, flash of 
light would break around her — the consciousness of sunny 
gardens, of air filled with the scent of flowers — then in 
a moment all had gone. 

She had not a cent to buy a tree tonight. She walked 
and went on with a sense of lovely rest, of feet that were 
not tired, and a something warm and comforting down in 
her heart. 

The woman who was taking care of Mary had given 
her the little wretched outhouse for her room. It stood 
alone just like a shed or stable, with leaking roof and 
broken door. A place that no one would have lived in; 
but the woman had no other place to offer, and the child 
had been left on her hands. 

Mary was silent for a moment when she saw it. She 
looked at the dirty floor and the broken skylight. It was 
only a stable that she had to live in now, but with the 
thought there came a vision. The vision of a stable far 
away beneath an Eastern sky. A stable where a King was 
born. 

She sat down on the broken bench and thought about 
it. “It never would be like a stable any more,” she said, 
“for mother used to say that He made things new. I 
guess the Wise Men didn’t think it was a stable. They 
brought their lovely gifts to give him just the same.” 
And so the walls began to brighten and she slept content- 
edly although the cold wind blew in on her, and the door 
creaked horribly the whole night long. 

But Christmas had come with all its memories. She 
thought about the little tree she and her mother had 


Extraordinary Mary 


0 


always dressed together. It was such a simple tree, made 
up of lots of love and make-believes, because there was 
so little money. 

She had not a cent to buy a tree tonight. She walked 
along the crowded streets and looked in at the windows 
where the blinds were up, showing the pretty rooms where 
happy children romped and played. 

She caught the spirit of their mirth, although she 
seemed to stand outside it. 

“Some day I'll have a tree with golden balls and colored 
candles,” she said gaily. 

A broken branch was lying on the pavement like a 
flower that had been dropped from a great bunch. She 
picked it up and held it in her hand. There was a sort 
of comradeship between them. 

“Dear little branch,” she said, “I guess you're lonely. 
You once belonged to a great tree out in the forest, and 
one day someone broke you off and carried you away. 
You thought they'd dress you up and make you look 
pretty, but you were not big enough, and so they dropped 
you in the snov/. If I had gold and silver balls I'd hang 
them on you. But never mind, you'll grow into a great 
big tree some day and you'll never need to be a branch 
again.” 

The branch seemed conscious of her words, for it quiv- 
ered slightly in her hand. 

Mary was conscious of a something, too. That sweet 
and lovely something unseen, but strongly felt, which made 
her heart beat faster and her step to quicken with delight. 
“And the Wise Men came to the stable,” she said as she 
opened the door, “and they brought Him lovely gifts. There 
was only a star to lead the way, but it shone out in the 
darkness.” 

There was no light in the outhouse. She hadn't even 
a match to light the candle. But she sat down with 
the branch before her. She knew that something wonder- 
ful would happen. The very things that she had wanted. 

“Somebody will bring the candles,” she said softly. 
“Somebody will come to light them, too.” And then she 


10 


Extraordinary Mary 


stopped and held her breath. The consciousness of some- 
body so near had brought a warning sense of rest which 
broke away the chilly air around her. 

The branch gave forth a thankful sigh, and as if respon- 
sive to the sunshine, it spread itself. The stable began 
to change in aspect, even as it must have changed when 
the dazzling faces of a thousand angels looked down on 
the birth of One who shaped divinity out of the coarsest 
things. 

A soft but radiant light transfigured all, and Mary’s tat- 
tered dress began to sparkle like snow. 

She sat up watching, bright-eyed and expectant. 

The walls were giving way to lovely gardens where 
happy children romped and played. Children with shining 
wings and angel faces who hung the tree with golden balls, 
bright stars of love and flags of victory. 

And all the time from some sweet, glorious land of 
‘^somewhere,” the voice of deep assurance came: “So shall 
reality come from a seeming dream.” 

Then suddenly a holy hush fell over all. Each head was 
bowed in sacred reverence. A blaze of shining whiteness 
made all other lights grow pale, for the One who had 
changed the aspect of the stable had come to light the tree. 
***♦***<:♦ 

The woman who had taken the responsibility of Mary 
was beginning to feel uneasy. 

It seemed to her that there was something unnatural 
about a child who never complained, and was content to 
sleep in an outhouse. 

She was a very busy woman. Christmas Eve had brought 
visitors to her already over-crowded home, and it was then 
that she opened her heart to her sister, and told her about 
the child in the outhouse. 

The sister was a strong, kindly woman who was mana- 
ger of a seaside hotel. The story of the little girl ap- 
pealed to her. 

“I could make use of such a child,” she said, “Spring 
will bring visitors in plenty, and there’s always a quick- 


Extraordinary Mary 


11 


footed child wanted to help with the little things there 
are to do.” 

So the sisters went to look up Mary. The outhouse was 
in darkness, and not until she entered did the woman 
realize how she had neglected the child. 

She struck a match and lighted a candle. The little 
girl was sleeping on the floor with the fallen branch of a 
Christmas tree beside her. 

“Poor little thing,” said the sister, lifting her into her 
arms. “She would have starved to death in this place. 
I’ll give her something much better when I take her home 
with me.” 










M V 
• } 


4 









*- 




% W 




> 




I 



1 




/• 

• I 

r 





4 



'-' > 


4 


A 

A 

I 


# 


CHAPTER 2. 


The Golden Butterfly 

I T was a new and wonderful life to Mary when she found 
herself in the big hotel at the seaside. 

Out of school hours she was kept busy running from 
morning till night, carrying up trays, waiting on the 
guests and helping to wash the dishes. 

Hundreds of little girls came with their parents to this 
beautiful resort. They were all elegantly dressed, and 
seemed to have everything they wanted, while Mary wore 
day after day her little ordinary print dresses and ordi- 
nary hose. But it never entered her head to envy those 
pretty little children. To her they were just like bright 
winged butterflies, or lovely flowers, and she had a story 
about each of them as they passed in and out of the hotel. 

Among the guests was one very cross old gentleman. 
No one liked to wait on him because he never knew what he 
wanted, and yet complained if he didn’t get it. 

To the people in the hotel he was just a sour, old gi’ouch, 
but to Mary he was the most interesting of anyone there. 
She had made up many wonderful stories about him, and 
out of his crossest and most unkind sentences she had 
always invented something beautiful. 

“Maybe he makes up stories like I do,” she said one day, 
while she watched him, “and that’s why he likes to sit 
so much alone. Maybe he’s just planning what good things 
he’s going to do with all his money, for they say he’s got 
cartloads of it. Maybe he’s a foreigner and doesn’t under- 
stand all languages properly, and that’s why he feels ^rt 
of cross when we don’t bring him what he wants. 

“Or suppose he should be a prince in exile.” 

This idea pleased her best of all, and she began to call 


14 


Extraordinary Mary 


him Prince, and kept the title up so strongly that the 
impression got around that he was of royal birth, and 
many of his eccentricities began to be excused on that 
account. 

Meanwhile all Mary’s kind thoughts went floating out to 
him and formed a pleasing atmosphere around his fretted 
brain. He found he was growing interested one day in 
watching the movements of the busy little girl, who went 
so noiselessly, yet so rapidly around, and waited on the 
guests. 

All children were alike to him, tiresome and noisy little 
things that he always tried to keep at a safe distance 
from his corns. 

But this child wasn’t noisy, and when she passed him 
he was conscious of a sweet something that made a light- 
ness in the air, and seemed to take the strain away from 
his head. He thought how much happier she looked than 
the little niece he had adopted years ago, and how much 
more contented than his bored and tired-looking wife, who 
had everything that heart could wish for. 

He was used to paying for service all around. He 
tipped the waiters from a sense of necessity, but it sudden- 
ly dawned on him one day that he had never given any- 
thing to this little girl, and she must expect it like the 
rest. 

Then he began to consider. Of course, she wasn’t an 
ordinary servant. She was too young to be a waitress — 
and yes — he thought, too wonderful. 

He pulled a gold piece from his pocket and looked at it 
reflecting. He thought of the many such pieces his little 
niece had had. He wondered if this little girl would spend 
it in a better way than she spent hers. 

Well — what did he care — he had plenty more, and a 
single gold piece mattered little to him now. 

Mary had brought him in the morning paper. He took it 
and pushed the gold piece towards her. “Spend it on 
candy for yourself,” he said. 

She looked at him wonderingly a moment, but assured 


Extraordinary Mary 


15 


by his nod, she took the money but did not rush away 
with the ordinary “Thank you.” 

She held it between her palms for a moment, and closing 
her eyes, appeared to be talking. 

“I never had a gold piece before,” she said suddenly, 
opening her eyes and smiling brightly. “But I knew I 
should have one some day. I have watched the cashier 
count them lots of times, and they always seemed to want 
to fly to me. I used to call them little yellow butterflies, 
but i never held one in my hands before.” 

ITie gentleman smiled grimly. “And you won’t hold 
that long in your hand, I presume,” he said. “I suppose 
will go and spend it now.” 

“ifes, I was just blessing it for that,” she answered. 
“I was wanting it to make another person just as glad as 
it makes me. I think it must be nice to be a gold piece, 
because you can make so many people happy.” 

“Or miserable,” he suggested ironically. 

Mary laughed merrily at what she took to be his humor. 

She held out the money to him. “You bless it, too,” she 
said. 

“What do you mean by bless?” he said severely. 

“Why don’t you know?” she answered gravely. “This 
little gold piece will go into such lots of places where we 
can never go. Maybe another little girl will get it, and 
I want her to be just as glad as I am. Maybe some poor 
man will get it, and when he sees it he’ll feel so rich that 
he’ll never be poor any more. 

Maybe someone who worries lots will get it, and they’ll 
know if God sends them one gold piece He can just as 
soon send them another.” 

“And I suppose you think He’s going to send you lots 
more now?” the gentleman asked. 

“I know He is,” said Mary gladly. “If He can send me 
one, then He can send me lots,” and with a laugh of assur- 
ance she skipped away and left the so-called prince to 
meditate. 


16 


Extbaordinary Mary 


She ran down the street with a sense of great riches. 

The piece of money in her hand was like the first gleam 
of gold which told of the mine to the digger. 

She had no more doubt that a thousand more were com- 
ing than the digger had when he saw the gold. 

She knew she had very little time to do her shopping. 

Already the dishes would be cleared and the call for the 
washer would have come. 

Dozens of stores held out a smiling welcome. That little 
gold piece had so much to do. 

Down on the sands by a souvenir sea-shell stand, Mary 
stood contemplating. About a yard from her, a seemingly 
blind man gave forth unmelodious sounds from a cracked 
violin, now and then pausing to tell his story of thirty 
years of darkness. Mary peeped into his empty hat. Pos- 
sibly no gold piece had ever been in there. He would think 
it was a penny and then someone would discover it was 
gold and tell him so. 

Mary loved surprises; they were the nicest things in 
life. She looked at her gold piece and then at the empty 
hat. She thought what a surprise it had been to her this 
morning, and then, with quick imagination, she thought 
what a surprise it would be to him. 

“Maybe it will make him open his eyes,” she said. And 
with a laugh of glee she dropped the shining piece into 
his hat. 

Whether he opened his eyes or not, she didn’t wait to see, 
but five minutes later his post might have been seen vacant, 
nor did he appear there for the rest of the day. 

And Mary went back to the dishes laughing. She had 
meant to buy so many things, but she wasn’t sorry. 

“There’s lots of gold pieces for me,” she kept repeating, 
“and God is going to send them. Some day He is going 
to send them.” 


CHAPTER 3. 


The Arrival of Princess Lynette 

A nd the gold pieces came in a wonderful way. Mary 
continued to wait on people until one day another 
wonderful thing happened. 

The cross old man whom Mary called “the Prince,” had 
a visit from his wife and niece who had been over the 
water for some time. 

The niece’s name was Lynette, and Mary fell in love with 
the name before she saw the child. 

The old gentleman had told her that Lynette was twelve 
years old, but very different from Mary, he said. 

Mary saw her at once as the little Princess, fit to be 
niece to the Prince who had given her the gold piece. 

She could hardly wait for the day of the arrival, and 
when it came she got through with her work quickly, and 
sat in the lobby until the taxi drove' up, and a very beauti- 
fully dressed, but weary looking lady got out, followed by 
a cross-faced, peevish little girl. 

Mary looked at her intensely. In spite of everything, she 
was still the beautiful little Lynette she had seen in her 
vision. Lynette loved to be admired, but nobody except 
an “Extraordinary Mary,” who always saw things in an 
extraordinary way, could possibly have admired such a 
cross-tempered, peevish child. 

Mary did not see her cross. She saw her as the beautiful 
little Princess, who had always had everything her own 
way, and so always expected it. 

Lynette had never been used to such admiration, al- 
though she had everything else that her heart desired. 

“Why, my hair isn’t gold,” she said, as Mary spoke of 
its beautiful glitter. 


18 


Extraordinary Mary 


“Your hair is just like the hair of the Princess I made 
up a story about,” Mary answered. And then she began 
to tell her wonderful tale, and Lynette, who loved short 
stories, listened intently. 

“How well those children harmonize,” said Mrs. Hansen 
to her husband, whom Mary still continued to call the 
Prince. 

“I never knew Lynette to get on with any child. She 
is always complaining about the children at school.” 

“And she’s certainly much better tempered since she 
came here,” said her husband. “I wish we could take that 
little girl back with us; it might make a difference in our 
home.” 

“I have often thought,” said Mrs, Hansen, “that Lynette 
would be less selfish if she had a child to share everything 
with; but I have never dared to try it, for I felt they 
would lead a cat and dog life.” 

“This child is no ordinary one,” replied Mr. Hansen. 
“She is without parents, and I believe dependent on a 
woman who finds her a great help in the hotel. The woman 
must surely be kind to her for she always seems so 
happy.” 

O, she’s a child that would be happy under any condi- 
tion. She’s continually making believe,” replied his wife, 
“and if we can draw up a bargain with the woman, I am 
willing to take her with us.” 

The bargain was much easier than they had supposed. 
Mary’s good angels had for days been bringing realities 
out of her dreams. 

Quite unexpectedly Mrs. Smith had an offer of marriage 
which she had accepted, and with the offer of a hand- 
some wedding gift to fill Mary’s place, she was only too 
glad to close the bargain. 

********* 

“And I am going home with you,” said Mary to Lynette 
when they told her. “0, I shall love it. It’s a real dream 
come true.” 


Extraordinary Mary 


19 


“You won’t love it at all,” replied Lynette. “We live in 
a great lonely house full of nothing but servants. It’s 
just outside an ugly little town, where the people are all 
too common to talk to.” 

“Lynette would never be happy wherever she is,” said 
her uncle. “We take her all over but she’s never con- 
tented. Now if she had Mary’s disposition — ” 

Lynette pouted. She was divided between jealousy 
and love. She wanted to have Mary in her home because 
she was good fun, and always saw things in a different 
light from what others saw them, and somehow the com- 
monest things seemed lovely when she was around. But 
she did not like the idea of Mary attracting more atten- 
tion than she did. She wanted the limelight for herself 
alone. 

Mary however was equal to the occasion. “Lynette is 
a Princess,” she said, “and she is so beautiful I never tire 
of looking at her. Some day my hair will grow gold like 
Lynette’s, and some day someone is going to call me a 
Princess. Maybe if I live long enough with Lynette I 
shall get to look like a Princess too.” 

“You are a very extraordinary girl,” said Mrs. Hanson, 
“I should like to have seen your parents.” 

“My mother is beautiful,” answered Mary, “and my 
Father is brave and strong. I think he must be a man 
something like Mr. Hanson, a Prince who is always royal 
to everyone.” L 

Mr. Hanson bit his lip hard under his stubby mustache, 
but the twinkle of humor was seen in his eyes. 

“You talk of your Mother and Father as if they were 
living,” said Mrs. Hanson, “but the lady who has been 
taking care of you tells me they are dead.” 

“Why, they are living,” cried Mary, “Mother is doing 
something wonderful for God where she lives, and Father 
is over the water like you were, but some day he’s going to 
return.” 

“Your Father is over the water,” mused Mrs. Hanson, 
“what country is he in?” 


20 


Extraordinary Mary 


Mary laughed. “0, I never knew what country,” she 
said, “and it doesn’t matter much, so long as he’s happy. 
And I know he’s happy because every night when I send 
him my thought on the wind, I ask God to bless him.” 

“It’s a wonder you don’t miss your Father and 
Mother,” said Mrs. Hanson, who was doing her best to 
make out this enigma of a child. 

A wistful look which told it’s story crept into Mary’s 
eyes for a moment but she answered bravely, “Why, it 
would only make them sorry if I missed them, and Mother 
used to say we’d not to do anything to make any one 
sorry, and she used to tell me that however far away we 
seemed from those we loved, we never could be far away, 
for God was everywhere and we’re all with God.” 

There was silence for a moment. Then Mr. Hanson 
spoke. 

“You really believe your Father will return,” he asked, 
“but how will he know where to find you?” 

“Mother always said if we belonged to him he’d find us,” 
answered Mary. “She said we always found what was 
our own, and I know it’s true for I wanted and wanted 
to live with a little Princess, and so I found Lynette.” 

“Who would never be considered a Princess by any one 
else,” said Mr. Hanson grimly, “any more than I should 
be considered a Prince.” 

But all the same he felt a sense of pleasure, that in the 
big world where he had, in spite of his wealth, felt dis- 
heartened, discouraged and often lonely, there lived some- 
one who had looked beyond the rough and sarcastic ex- 
terior. Someone who had got right at the Soul and seen 
the great desire of the real man. 


CHAPTER 4. 


The Palace of Her Dreams 

W HEN Mary found herself the first morning in her 
new home, she knew her dream had come true. 
It seemed as if her heart had never throbbed so 

joyously, 

“O, isn’t Mother happy that I’m here,” she said to her- 
self as she looked around her beautiful room. 

This was the room that she had always pictured. A 
room fit for an angel to live in. She felt just like a little 
angel already as she admired her silk gown with it’s lacy 
sleeves. 

‘T guess Mother has got a room as lovely as this where 
she lives,” she said, “and she wanted me to have just the 
same.” 

The windows were open. The scent of fiowers came 
blowing in on the soft wind. The trees were telling 
wonderful stories to each other, the birds in the boughs 
were talking. 

“The room that I always saw in my picture,” she cried 
again. “Everything white and gold just like sunshine 
and stars.” 

She felt rich and royal as she looked at the gilded ceiling 
on which birds with golden wings were painted. At the 
bottom of her bed was a golden vase full of stately and 
beautiful calla lilies with their big gold trumpets pointing 
upwards like signals out of frozen snow. 

She stood for a moment by the little gold table watching 
the pretty gold fish swimming in the bowl. 

“And it’s real — it’s all real now,” she repeated. “O, 
Mother, aren’t you glad I don’t have to dream it any 
more.” 


22 


Extraordinary Mary 


The clock on the mantelpiece began to play the tune 
of ‘Home Sweet Home’, in soft silvery chimes. 

In the next room Lynette turned over in bed with a 
groan. “Bother that old clock,” she said, “it will soon be 
time to get up.” 

“Mary,” she called, “come and tell me a story.” 

Mary rushed through the curtains which divided 
Lynette’s beautiful little room from her own. 

“I can easily tell a story this morning,” she said, 
“because it’s a story that’s come true and I don’t have to 
‘make believe.’ I always wanted a room all in white 
with pretty gold covers over the bed, and calla lilies just 
like the angels carry in pictures. When the factory bells 
used to ring right over our heads I used to think how nice 
it would be to have a clock that played tunes, and now 
it’s all real and I’m the real little lady I wanted to be.” 

And Mary sat down in the chair and curling her feet 
under her night gown hugged herself with delight. 

“Why don’t you put on your bedroom slippers?” said 
Lynette. “There they are under the bed.” 

“Then I get bedroom slippers, too?” cried Mary. “O, 
isn’t it wonderful to live in this wonderful palace where 
everything seems to come out of nothing, and there’s 
surprises every minute we breathe.” 

“And the next surprise will be school,” said Lynette. 
“And I don’t guess you’ll like that any more than I do. 
I go to a private school. There’s only fifteen of us there. 
I don’t like the ‘Public School’. I never got on with the 
girls and now we’ve got the meanest teacher.” 

“I’d like to see her,” said Mary with interest. 

Lynette laughed. “Well, when you’ve seen her once 
you’ll never want to see her again. I am sure of that,” 
she answered. “And here’s someone coming who is just 
as mean.” 

A very nervous-looking, pale-faced girl entered the 
room while she spoke. 

“She’s my nurse,” said Lynette, “she always looks after 
my things. Don’t let her boss you. Just do as you like.” 


Extraordinary Mary 


23' 


The girl who didn’t look as if she had energy enough 
to boss even a fly, laid two pretty dresses on the bed and 
said in a very inanimate tone that the water in the bath 
was ready, and which of the young ladies would like to 
bathe first? 

“I’ll go,” said Lynette, who was used to the first place 
in everything, “and while I am bathing you can show 
Mary where to keep her things.” 

“Here’s your clothes. Miss,” the nurse said in her 
languid tone as she walked with a weary drag into Mary’s 
room. “Mrs. Hanson said if this dress were too large I 
could run a tuck in it while you were bathing.” 

She held up, as she spoke, a dainty little frilly pink 
muslin, such a dress as Mary had never worn, but which 
had many times entered her golden dreams. 

“For me?” she cried, gladly throwing her arms around 
the girl. “0, isn’t God good! He’s given me so many 
things all in a bunch. A little Princess to live with. A 
lovely home. A room all white and gold. Such pretty 
clothes. The dear Prince and his lovely wife, and you!” 

Once more she threw her arms around the nurse and this 
time kissed her cheek. 

The girl stood back, amazed; The tears gathered in her 
eyes. “Why, I’ve done nothing for you. Miss,” she said 
apologetically. 

“You’re going to alter my dress if it won’t fit,” cried 
Mary, “and then I can wear it today. Just think of put- 
ting on that lovely dress that smells of roses.” 

The nurse was at a loss to comprehend the child. In 
all her service she had never been used to treatment of 
this kind. 

The dress was a little too long, so she began to pin it 
up for alterations. 

“You’re sure it will not bother you?” said Mary. 

“Bother me?^’ she asked incredulously. “Why, it’s my 
work, you know. I’m nurse to Miss Lynette and paid for 
service.” The last part of her sentence had been dinned 
into her ears many times by others. 


24 


Extraordinary Mary 


“I guess you’re glad to live in such a lovely home as 
this,” said Mary. 

The girl did not reply. The tears were in her eyes. 
There was a softened feeling in her heart which had felt 
hard and bitter. 

She was still thinking about Mary’s kiss. 

“Did you live here always?” Mary asked. 

She shook her head without speaking, and Mary who 
had stories in her brain for everyone was busy supposing 
what this girl’s could be, when Lynette returned from the 
bathroom and the thread was broken. 

But when the nurse returned to the kitchen there was 
a different expression on her face. 

“How did you get on with the child they’ve adopted?” 
asked the cook who always pitied the woman from the 
depths of her heart. “You had quite enough to do with 
Miss Lynette’s nonsense, but now you’ve got the two to 
put up with!” 

“Well. I don’t know where they got her from,” said 
Jane, “but they’ve put a little angel into the house, as 
sweet as a ripe peach and just as pretty.” 

“If only Miss Ljmette doesn’t get her into her bad 
ways,” said the skeptical cook. 

“No,” answered Jane, “Miss Lynette has never behaved 
better, and would you believe it, she actually said ‘Thank 
you’, when I did her hair.” 

“Well, I’ll be curious to see how it continues,” an- 
swered Cook, but down in her soul she was conscious of a 
different atmosphere which had entered the house like a 
warm breeze. 


CHAPTER 5. 


The Teacher and the Flowers 

O F course ‘extraordinary Mary’ was to see something 
very different in the teacher from what the others 
had seen. 

The school girls had gathered in a little group in the 
garden when the two children arrived. 

“Mary’s as exited about school as if she were going to 
a party,” Lynette said as she introduced her. 

“She won’t be when she has been here a day or two,” 
said Ethel Price, one of the oldest of the girls. “If you 
come here you’ve got to work. I’ll tell you. Miss Brown 
never keeps her eyes off you for a minute.” 

“Mary’s always making up stories about people,” said 
Lynette. “She thinks that I am a Princess and my Uncle 
is a Prince.” 

“She won’t have much chance to make up stories while 
Miss Brown’s around,” answered Gracie Stanton. “You 
can’t even raise your eyes to think of anything before 
she’s down on you, and telling you to mind your lessons.” 

At that moment the garden gate opened and the 
teacher passed up the walk with the usual good morning. 

“There she is,” whispered Lynette. “That’s old Miss 
Brown.” 

“Why, she doesn’t look old,” said Mary. “She’s young 
and I think she is pretty.” 

The girls all laughed at the idea, but Emily Wilson, who 
was always called Miss Brown’s favorite, spoke up. 

“She’s not what you would call bad looking,” she said, 
“I always think she has nice eyes.” 

“And pretty hair,” said Jennie Mitchell, “only she has 
such a crabby mouth.” 


26 


Extraordinary Mary 


“I don’t think she’d look crabby if she smiled,” said 
Mary. 

“I never saw her smile,” responded Lynette, “I guess 
she doesn’t know how.” 

Mary sprang up suddenly. 

'‘Let’s try to think of something that will make her 
smile,” she said. 

The girls threw up their hands at the idea. 

“You’d be clever if you could do it,” cried Gracie. “I 
have an Aunt, just like Miss Brown, and the only time 
she smiles is on her birthday when we all take her a 
present. Maybe if we tried the same thing on Miss 
Brown we might succeed.” 

“But we don’t want to wait till her birthday to see her 
smile,” cried Mary. “Let’s make her smile today. I’ll 
tell you what. Let’s all bring different kin«ds of flowers 
to school this afternoon and make them into a big bunch 
and put them on her desk.” 

“She won’t smile at that,” laughed the girls, “she gets 
all the flowers she wants out of her garden.” 

“Oh, we can all pluck flowers,” cried Mary, “but it’s lots 
nicer if we have them given. Mother used to say that 
when Father gave her just a little daisy he had gathered, 
it meant more than all the golden roses in the garden of a 
King. Mother always loved to give to people who were 
sad and lonely, and when we had no money we would 
gather flowers in the country, and put a thought in every 
flower, just like we’d hang things on a Christmas tree.” 

“A thought, what do you mean by that?” Lynette asked 
vaguely. 

“Why, every one is thinking,” Mary answered. “You’re 
thinking that Miss Brown won’t smile, and I am thinking 
that she will. Well, when you pick your flowers get a 
lot of pretty thoughts together just like little fairies, and 
all those thoughts will fly right into her heart.” 

Bessie Way, who had been listening open-eyed, but who, 
until now, had said nothing, clapped her hands at the 
idea. She was of an imaginative turn of mind and the 
whole thing delighted her. 


Extraordinary Mary 


27 


“It’s exactly like a fairy tale,” she said. “I really 
guess Miss Brown will smile. Do you know, flowers 
always seem so real to me and I never walk through beds 
of pansies but what I think they look like little fairy girls 
in bonnets.” 

“Miss Brown won’t see any fairies in them, I assure 
you,” laughed Ethel Price. “She would not let you read a 
fairy tale if she could help it.” 

“But fairy tales are true.” said Mary with such earnest- 
ness that the girls stood still. 

“When Beauty loved the Beast he turned into a Prince. 
Everyone had been afraid of him before, and he lived so 
lonely in his castle and would not even give away a flower. 
But Beauty hadn’t any fear although they said that he 
would eat her, and because she hadn’t any fear he kept 
her in his palace and gave her all the roses that she 
wanted, and one day he became a Prince. The flowers 
were hidden once beneath the earth, long, long ago, when 
no one knew that they were there, but the big sun shone 
out and loved the earth, and then the earth showed what 
she had hidden.” 

“But those are only stories,” said Grace Stanton. 

“And this is a story,” answered Mary. “Only it’s not 
half written. We’ve got the beginning, and we are going 
to make something wonderful happen soon.” 

The bell rang at that moment and they all forgot every- 
thing in their hurry to get to their places and take the 
last look at their lessons. 

When the girls walked home that day, for the first time 
Miss Brown, instead of being the automatic school 
teacher began to be a person of interest to them. 

Thjs idea of a story belonging to everyone roused their 
curiosity as to what was the story back of Miss Brown. 
They had agreed to meet in the school garden half an 
hour earlier than usnal and bring their flowers. 

A choice and remarkable bouquet it was, of all tints 
and colors, like the old-fashioned nosegay which used to 
give so much pleasure. 


28 


Extraordinary Mary- 


“Now put in your thoughts,” said Mary gravely, “and 
let’s all see her smile.” 

“I’ll laugh if she doesn’t!” said the skeptical Grace. 

“But she will,” answered Mary, “how could she help it. 
There’s as many good thoughts as there’s colors and 
flowers, and she’ll never have been so happy for years.” 

And Miss Brown did smile when she saw the marvelous 
bouquet and possibly her face had never looked prettier. 
“Mary’s right, she’s rather good looking,” whispered one 
girl to another. 

Miss Brown held the bouquet some time without 
speaking. Her eyes were filled with memory. The girls 
and the schoolroom had faded for the moment. She was 
carried far back on the scent of the flowers. It seemed 
as if she could feel the touch of hands no longer there. 
She saw herself a little, white pinafored girl in a country 
lane making such a bouquet for the Mother she so dearly 
loved, and unconsciously dropping in all the thoughts 
which the girls had dropped into this one. 

And again memory traveled on the scent, to that bright 
scene on graduation day, when with her bouquets she 
came smiling from the platform, the most successful and 
most honored girl in all the school. 

The mignonette carried her further, into that lovely 
garden of the past, where she had looked into the bright 
and radiant face of the one who had called her the fairest 
flower that ever bloomed. 

The memory of it softened the hard line around her 
mouth. It brought back the gentleness of the girl that 
had been. The divine touch of human love had melted 
away the casement of ice which had gathered around her 
heart. 

“Doesn’t she look beautiful?” whispered Mary to 
Lynette. 

“She’s really smiling,” said Lynette in answer. 

But this was only the beginning of the many smiles 
Miss Brown was going to give. 


CHAPTER 6. 


Mary Visits the Town 


HE days that followed were like a dream of delight 



to Mary. Each morning she opened her eyes to new 


wonders, which to the spoiled eyes of those who had 
long seen them were no wonders at all. 

Each night as she lay awake in her 'golden room’, she 
would go back in joyous memory over the beautiful 
happy day. 

Lynette was beginning to enter into the fun of the 
game. Mary’s delight over the most simple things was 
contagious. 

A change too had come over Mr. and Mrs. Hansen. It 
was as though a great blank in their lives had been 
suddenly filled. With all their wealth they had never 
been happy. They had adopted Lynette when she was 
a baby, hoping she might bring some sunshine into their 
home. But the child had simply gone done to their 
vibration. 

Living in an atmosphere where everyone complained, 
she grew into a fretful, whining girl who was dis- 
contented over everything. 

“You seem stronger than you were a while back,” said 
Mrs. Hansen one day to her husband. “I think your trip 
this summer did you good.” 

“Or what we found on the trip,” he answered. “The 
house has seemed different since we brought that child 
into it.” 

“I thought the novelty of the thing would wear off with 
her,” said Mrs. Hansen, “but it is really amusing to me, 
how she finds joy out of the most simple things. Last 
night I heard her call to Lynette, ‘0, Lynette, come here 


30 


Extraordinary Mary 


quick, I’ve got something beautiful to show you.’ Lynette 
came running down stairs, and you should have seen her 
disgust when Mary just pointed to the sunset. Of course 
I must say that the sky was unusually glorious. All 
aflame with color, but Lynette had expected something 
different. “Why, we see that every night,” she said. 
“There musn’t have been any sunsets where you lived, 
Mary.” 

“But Lynette has been very much changed,” said Mr. 
Hansen. “She doesn’t get on my nerves like she once did. 
She is taking more interest in her lessons and she’s cer- 
tainly copied Mary in one thing, she doesn’t demand things 
from us like she used to.” 

But neither of them guessed the big demand that Mary 
was going to make of them soon. 

Mary had visited what was called the little town, and 
had made many friends there. The people were of great 
interest to her. 

The cottages were mostly owned by Mr. Hansen and 
many of them in wretched condition. 

But Mr. Hansen had always been an exacting landlord, 
demanding his rent to the day and refusing to do any 
repairs. 

Before the people knew who Mary was, she had learned 
many of their troubles. 

During a heavy rain one day, she had taken shelter 
beneath a tree just outside the house where one who was 
called ‘Aunt Margaret Thompson’ was living. 

The old lady, crippled with rheumatism, was sitting in 
front of a low fire, with her shawl across her knees. 

The rain was leaking through the roof, and making 
pools upon the floor. , 

Aunt Margaret saw the child outside and, supposing 
her to be one of the visitors who was staying at the hotel, 
called her indoors. 

“Not that it’s much better in than out,” she said 
apologizing. “The rain comes as much through the roof 
as it comes through the branches of a tree, but still you 
will keep warmer till the storm has passed.” 


Extraordinary Mary 


31 


Mary looked at the roof, at the floor, and then at the 
unhappy looking woman. 

“Why don’t you get your roof mended?” she asked. 

“Why didn’t John have his dinner?” said the woman. 

“I suppose because he couldn’t see it,” answered Mary. 

“No, because there was none,” she replied. 

“I’m no worse off than the rest of them. Miss. All the 
houses are in bad repair, only we sick folks feel it the 
most. Now there’s Rose Sheldon, poor little thing. She’s 
not long got her baby, and the rain’s pouring in on her as 
much as it is on me, and how’s she going to raise a child 
through the winter with the snow coming in on all sides 
and the cold wind blowing. And then there’s Pete 
Windsor. He’s crippled and old like myself. But what 
can we do? We daren’t put forth a complaint to the 
landlord or he’s turn us out, and it’s better to keep the 
dirty water if there isn’t any clean. Half a loaf is better 
than no bread, and half a house is better than none, as I 
thought when I saw you sheltering under the tree.” 

Mary got up and looked through the window. The 
shower was over now. There was a patch of clear blue 
sky between the rifted clouds. 

She put her arms around the old woman’s neck and 
kissed her softly on the cheek. “Thank you for your 
shelter,” she said. “And don’t worry. When I lived in a 
stable I saw the most beautiful things I ever saw in my 
life. God always sends the most beautiful things. You 
won’t be long with a leaking roof. I am going to ask that 
someone will heal it.” 

She was gone in a moment and for a while the old 
woman sat still in astonishment. The touch of the child’s 
lips, the sweet caress, seemed to have suddenly lifted the 
heavy cloud from her soul which had encompassed it now 
for many years. 

She rubbed her eyes vaguely and looked around. 

Was it a dream? she asked herself. Was it an angel? 

Then suddenly flashed upon her the memory of the 
story which had gone round the little town. A story to 
which she had paid scant attention. The story told many 
times by the pale-faced nurse in the landlord’s home. 


32 


Extraordinary Mary 


“I know,” she cried suddenly. “It sounds like the same. 
God bless the child. She must be the one they call Extra- 
ordinary Mary.” 


CHAPTER 7. 


Lame Peter 


M ARY’S visits did not end with the one to Aunt Mar- 
garet. The next she sought out was the man 
called ‘Old Pete.’ Pete had some years ago fallen 
from a ladder and had been on his back ever since. 

“But why do you call him Old Peter?” she asked his 
brother. 

Jacob laughed. “Well, you see, when a man gets past 
sixty — ”, he said. 

Mary looked upward. 

“The sun is long past sixty,” she said. “And it shines 
just as brightly. I’m going to call him young Peter.” 

This suited Peter all right. He had really a youthful 
heart, but he had allowed age to topple down on him with 
his infirmity. 

“When you walk around like a young man they could 
never call you old,” she said to Peter. 

Peter sighed. A vision of his lost youth came back to 
him. “If I could get the use of my limbs I should not 
feel old,” he replied. 

Mary sat down by him. Over his head was a picture 
of the Christ. She looked at it for a moment and much 
of the same radiance that the artist had portrayed in that 
picture shone on her face. 

“When a man came to Him who was lame,” she said 
slowly, “Jesus said, ‘Arise, take up thy bed and walk,’ 
and He is saying just the same to you now.” 

“Well, it sounds good if one could do it,” answered 
Peter. “For myself I’d be mighty thankful if I could 
arise, let alone taking up my bed.” 


34 


Extraordinary Mary 


Mary sat thoughtful for a moment. Then she said with 
sudden emphasis: “Some day you will arise.” 

The statement was so positive that Peter almost 
startled, but he answered negatively: “Yes, I g^uess maybe 
at the blessed resurrection.” 

“Lazarus’ sister said those words to Jesus,” Mary 
answered, “but Jesus told Lazarus to come forth — now.” 

Peter listened. He knew his Bible well. He had been 
taught the story of Lazarus’ resurrection as a boy. He 
had had it preached at him from the pulpit many a time, 
but today it came illumined by new radiance. 

He looked toward his crutches, on which occasionally 
he was able to hobble miserably around. 

Mary caught his look and smiled. 

“Peter looked at Christ and then he walked the water,” 
she said simply. “But when he looked at the water and 
nof at Christ, he sank.” 

Peter didn’t sleep that night. The child’s words so 
simply said rang in his ears. 

“Because Peter looked at the waves and not at Christ, 
he sank,” he kept repeating. 

And then his eyes turned from his crutches towards 
the picture on the wall. 


CHAPTER 8. 


Rosa’s Baby 

W HEN Mary saw Rosa Sheldon’s baby, had she 
allowed it, a little sad thought might have crept 
into her heart. Rosa’s husband had been called 
to action on another plane and Rosa was left apparently 
alone with the child who had just come into the world. 

In the bitterness of her heart, she did not want her 
baby. She fed it, dressed it, and then left it in the cradle 
unloved, helpless and alone. 

She was doing her duty by it, so she thought, but in 
her sorrow she had forgotten all things except the man 
who was no longer with her. 

When Mary went into the little cottage, her first request 
was for the baby. 

Rosa was apparently busy ironing. She took but little 
notice of her visitors. They came in with their hope and 
consolation, but she scarcely heard them. 

Mary went to the cradle and looked at the baby. There 
was something wierd, almost repulsive in the little starved 
creature that she saw. Out of the big, plaintive eyes it 
seemed as if a suffering soul looked up to her for help. 

All the Mother’s love which lives so strongly in the 
heart of every womanly child, sprang up in Mary at the 
sight. She lifted the little, light creature into her arms 
and folded it to her heart with the knowledge of a person 
twice her age. 

It was the first touch of real love the baby had ever 
known. It stretched out its little limbs like a flower that 
is conscious of the warmth of the sunshine and Mary 
kissed it gently and laid it in its Mother’s arms. 

“Love it,” she said. 


36 


Extraordinary Mary 


Rosa startled. She had put aside her work and was 
sitting in the chair. 

Her eyes were looking dreamily through the window. 

“0, how you frightened me,” she cried. “I thought it 
was my husband’s voice.” 

“Maybe it was,” said Mary. “Maybe he spoke through 
me and told you to love what he had given you. It is his 
child and he wants you to love it like he loves you.” 

Rosa was sitting up as if conscious of a broken cloud 
which showed the sunshine. She looked vaguely at the 
child. “Did he tell you so?” she asked. 

“Yes,” answered Mary simply. “He must have done or 
I should not be telling you.” 

“He never saw his baby,” she said, sadly. 

“He sees it now,” said Mary. “He sees it through your 
love.” 

The first tears that the girl had shed came brimming to 
her eyes. 

“How do you know he does?” she asked. 

She couldn’t feel that she was talking to a child. 

Mary sat down at her feet with one hand resting on the 
baby. “Before my Mother went away,” she said, “she 
used to tell me — love — real love should live forever. And 
when we did not know where Father was and we stood 
beneath the stars at night, we knew his soul was with us 
and we couldn’t think a thought for him but what it was 
received. And then when Mother went away, I knew 
God wanted her for something beautiful. I knew that 
Mother never could forget me and when I needed her — 
why — she would always come. I didn’t cry. I knew that 
if I did it would make her unhappy and she had yet too 
many things to do for God to stop and comfort me.” 

Rosa was looking at her wonderingly. It was difficult 
for her to understand. 

“But my husband is dead,” she cried. “He couldn’t 
comfort me if he wanted to.” 

Mary got up and put her arms around her. 

“Maybe he sent me now to comfort you,” she said. 


Extraordinary Mary 


57 


The girl’s lips quivered for a moment. “It seems as if 
I had him here,” she answered. “He used to stroke my 
hair just like you’re doing. He never seemed so near to 
me before.” 

“He’s always near to you, because he can’t forget you. 
He loves you and he loves his child. He wants you to do 
just what you would have done if he had stayed upon the 
earth,” said Mary. 

“You talk so old-fashionedly,” replied Rosa, “and yet it 
makes it seem so real.” 

“Because it is so real to me,” answered Mary. “It 
mightn’t have been so real if Mother hadn’t gone away. 
But when she went, I knew that God wouldn’t have taken 
her if he hadn’t got something beautiful for her to do. 
And so I never told him I was lonely. I did the very best 
I could without her. Then he sent something beautiful 
to me, and now I’ve got such lots to love I can’t be glad 
enough.” 

“Then you think my husband’s near me?” asked Rosa. 

Mary was silent for a moment. Her eyes were looking 
far away as if a veil were rent asunder and the truth of 
things were being revealed. 

“He is doing his work,” she said slowly, “and you 
yours. So near you seem, and yet you think he isn’t 
with you. Why don’t you love the baby when it is a part 
of him?” She turned and asked the question, not as if it 
were her own. And Rosa bent her head over the child. 

“His baby,” she said, “my baby. O, God, I forgot all in 
wanting him.” 

And the unloved little one was bathed in the holy 
baptism of love’s repentant tears. 


CHAPTER 9. 


Mary’s Picture Show 

M ary walked slowly back home after visiting these 
people. Her heart was very full, her brain was 
busy. Something must be done to help them, “but” 
she said with glad assurance: “God will show me the 
way.” And with that she left it all and waited. 

The way opened with almost surprising rapidity. When 
supper was over that night and they were sitting talking 
together, Lynette said suddenly: “It’s Mary’s birthday in 
a week. What are you going to give her. Uncle?” 

Mr. Hansen took off his glasses and looked across the 
table at the child. He thought of all the joy she had 
brought into their home. 

“So, it’s Mary’s birthday,” he said quietly. “Well, she 
must choose her present like I let you choose. Now tell 
us, little girl, what do you want?” 

Mary clasped her hands, her eyes grew bright with 
pleasure. How qucikly God had brought the answer to 
her prayer. 

“I would like all these dear people who live in the 
town to have new homes,” she said. “Or else I’d like the 
old made over. I’d like them to have pretty gardens and 
not ditches around their homes. There’s dear old ‘Aunt 
Margaret’, lives in one where the roof is all broken and 
the rain comes in. Pete lives in another, and the paper 
is off his walls and Peter’s not good at the make believe. 
And there’s a dear baby and its Mother in another, and 
the baby cries at night because it is cold. And one has 

a broken gate and the others ” 

Mr. Hansen was listening aghast. He hadn’t been 
prepared for this expensive birthday present. 


40 


Extraordinary Mary 


Mrs. Hansen was looking up from the book she v/as 
reading, with horror in her eyes. 

“I’m a pretty well-off man, Mary,” he said, “but I’m not 
a millionaire. Our trip to California is a heavy eypense. 
If I spent all that money in doing repairs which my 
tenants should do for themselves, it would mean us staying 
here amidst the ice and snow.” 

Mary clasped her hands. 

“Christmas amongst the snow!” she cried.“ O, wouldn’t 
it be fun, Lynette? Maybe our little snow girl would 
come to life like the one did in the story.” 

Lynette clapped her hands at the thought. Mary’s 
mirth was very infectious. 

“And we’d get up in the morning and build snow huts,” 
she cried. “0, let’s stay — let’s.” 

“What are you thinking of?” said Mrs. Hansen some- 
what crossly. “Your Uncle has never wintered in the 
East for years. He can’t stand the cold.” 

“Well, just think how those other people have to stand 
it with broken roofs and doors,” cried Lynette, who was 
getting some of Mary’s spirit now. 

“You’d never feel the cold,” said Mary in her gentle 
way. “0, if you helped them, you would feel so warm 
and happy it would be like a little bit of sunshine hang- 
ing round your neck.” 

“Of course, those houses have long needed repair,” said 
Mr. Hansen to his wife, “but I’ve not felt called upon to 
do it. I may,” he added after a moment’s hesitation, “go 
round myself and see the people.” 

“And if you go I know you will make their homes 
right,” said Mary. 

Inwardly she thanked God for an answered prayer. 

“Won’t it be lovely, Lynette,” she cried when they were 
both in bed that night. “Won’t it be lovely if the Prince 
is really like a Prince to his people and builds them all 
fresh homes with gardens ’round. Let’s dream about it 
every day and then we will make it true.” 


Extraordinary Mary 


41 


“I never dream at any time,” Lynette replied. “Uncle 
says I’ve not got your imagination.” 

“Dreaming is just seeing pictures,” answered Mary. 
“Then asking God to make those pictures real. Now close 
your eyes and tell me what you see.” 

“I don’t see anything,” replied Lynette. 

“Well then, we’ll make a picture up together. Let’s 
see the town just full of pretty little houses, with roses 
growing everywhere and gardens full of flowers. And 
Margaret Thompson has a great big fire and a roof that 
doesn’t leak. And Peter’s walking strong and well and 
raising vegetables and bees. And Rosa’s got the cutest 
place for her baby and the baby is just so fat and pretty. 
And Mr. Hansen walks among his tenants and they all 
love him because he is a Prince.” 

“Hold on,” cried Lynette, a little crossly, “I haven’t 
made one picture yet. It’s like fitting pieces into a puzzle 
for me. I guess it will be just as hard for Uncle to do all 
the things you want, as it is for me to see the picture.” 
********** 

But neither of them knew that the Prince was also 
seeing pictures, but they were different from the pictures 
Mary made. They were pictures of the past. 

Page after page he turned over the book which for sixty 
years he had unconsciously been writing. 

He saw himself as the boy at school fighting his way 
to the top ; he cared not by what means. 

He saw himself as the young man, mounting the ladder, 
step by step, not caring whom he flung beneath him if he 
could gain the top. 

He went back to the factory in which he had made the 
money he was now spending. 

He saw children just as bright and beautiful as those 
now in his home, driven to the wheels to work on starva- 
tion wages. 

He saw himself grabbing the 87 per cent on the dollar 
while the employee took the 13 per cent. 


42 


Extraordinary Mary 


And then he saw this little town with all the houses 
that he owned. 

He saw the rents gathered in by his hard-faced agent. 

He saw himself bring down his fist and say: “Let them 
go if they are not satisfied, but Fll do no repairs.” 

He remembered too, how one night he had been stopped 
when it was raining heavily, by the appeal of a poor, 
half-starved woman. 

“Won’t you wait a few days later for the rent? I don’t 
won’t to go out on the street. Sir.” 

And angrily he had hastened on, referring her to the 
agent and then forgetting all about it. 

Where was she now? He had never taken time to ask. 

Ghosts of the past arose before him and out of the 
hollow silence came the voice: “What did you ever do to 
help another?” 

Yes, he had paid for service when he knew it was 
demanded, but the only thing he had ever given willingly 
for work was the shining gold piece to the little girl who 
wasn’t looking for it. 

A sigh unconsciously escaped his lips. 

His wife heard it and looked up amazed. 

“Are you sick, Walter?” she asked. 

“No, I was only thinking,” he replied. “I was thinking, 
Janet, of our tenants. I am going to get my agent busy 
in the morning. I may go round myself as well. I would 
like to get them better fixed before the winter.” 

“And what are your plans for our trip?” she asked. 

He leaned forward and touched her hand. 

“Janet,” he said with more tenderness than she had 
believed him capable of, “are you willing to give up that 
trip this year?” 

She dropped her work and looked at him. It was so 
strange to be consulted this way. 

“But you are sure you can stand the winter here?” she 
asked. 

“Well,” he responded, “I have thought it all out. I have 
thought of my rheumatism and my asthma and the long 


Extraordinary Mary 


43 


cold days and the lack of amusement, but Mary’s idea 
about a little piece of sunshine always hanging around 
our necks and keeping us warm may have something in it. 
I remember how when I was a child singing: “Will there 
be any stars in my crown?” But I think if we do any 
good deeds at all, it’s more satisfactory to get some of the 
glory here, I am curious to see how this philosophy acts.” 

Mrs. Hansen looked at him wonderingly. 

She had never understood her husband, but tonight she 
felt nearer to him than she had ever done in all the twenty 
years of her married life. 


I 









CHAPTER 10. 


H ow Peter Learned to Walk 

P ETER didn’t sleep the night after Mary had talked 
with him. Her words so simply said rang in his 
ears. “Because Peter looked at the waves and not 
at Christ, he sank.” 

He sat up in bed and gazed through the window. 

It was a golden night. The moon shone in untouched 
splendor from a cloudless sky. 

He could se her beautiful reflection in the stream of 
water which ran through the field. 

Out of the silence of the night she seemed to speak of 
countless ages governed by a law as changeless, as eternal 
love. 

“I guess she smiles at human nature, that old moon,” 
said Peter. “My, — if she had a pen what stories she 
could write. No wonder the Psalmist told us: He that 
sat in the Heavens should laugh.’ We’re just a kicking 
and a kicking at the mountains, but which of us has got 
the grit to climb. And it seems to me that when we get 
as high up as the Heavens, if ever we can walk that far, 
we’re going to look back on this life of ours and laugh at 
it from first to last. Even our worst troubles, when we 
view them from the Heavens, won’t seem any more to us 
than my broken rake seems to me now. The rake I fretted 
my heart out over as a boy.” 

He reached forward and opened the window as he 
spoke. The dewy scent from the grass and flowers blew 
in on the cool air. 

How glorious it must be in the fields on such a night. 
He found himself possessed of an irrestible desire to walk. 
He took up his crutches dependently, almost lovingly. 


46 


Extraordinary Mary 


Then laid them down and said: “I am keeping my eyes on 
them and not on the Master.” 

He placed his feet upon the floor and tried to stand 
alone. 

His limbs gave way beneath him. 

Like Peter of old he saw only the rush of the waters 
and throwing up his arms he cried: “Lord, save me or I 
sink.” He fell back on his bed again, but it was the first 
attempt without the props. It gave him courage. 

In a few minutes he was ready to laugh at his fears. 

“I’ve not got the faith of the little girl yet, but never 
mind I’ve done something. One step’s not bad for a 
beginning, maybe tomorrow I’ll be better able to keep my 
eyes on the Master for two steps. And if I can manage 
two then I don’t think it will be long before I will be able 
to walk.” 

A thrill of joy ran through him at the thought. 
Catching sight of himself in the mirror opposite he 
laughed and nodded. 

“After all you’re not done for yet, Peter,” he said. 
“Old Pete may even yet become young Pete like the little 
girl said.” 

******Hs*** 

Peter’s recovery was a marvel to all. He said nothing 
about it, but day by day his faith was growing. 

Day by day he was looking less at the crutches and 
more towards the upholding power. 

He watched the young men go swinging by to work and 
once again he saw himself the strong and powerful man 
he used to be. No more the miserable cripple, dependent 
on the world for aid. 

His lounge had been placed out in the garden where the 
sun might beat upon his limbs. 

He heard the laugh of happy children at their play. 

How fearless they were — how free, and why should he 
be hampered. 

He raised himself slowly from his lounge. “God’s got a 
strong arm,” he said, “he isn’t going to let me fall.” 


Extraordinary Mary 


47 


And as he spoke it seemed as if those strong and loving 
arms were placed around him, lifting him powerfully 
upon his feet. 

A sudden feeling of triumph and buoyancy made him 
throw down his crutches. 

He saw himself as the young athlete of long ago. 

He saw himself coming out first in the race and he 
heard the cry of a hundred boys: 

“You’ve won, Pete — You’ve won!” 

The power went through him like a shock. 

He straightened himself like one preparing for a race. 

“Now, Pete, you’re are not going to be mastered,” he 
said. And bravely, fearlessly he walked across the field. 
There was no giving way. No weakness. The courage 
of the real Peter had returned and joyously as the reality 
dawned upon him he clapped his hands and cried aloud: 
“You’ve won, Pete! You’ve won!” 

********* * 

It was a great astonishment to the tenants in the little 
town a few days later to see Mr. Hansen’s auto stop in 
front of several of the homes. 

His agent always collected the rent and beyond receiving 
it Mr. Hansen had cared little or nothing about what 
the inhabitants of his dwellings were doing. 

Peter was walking in his garden when the auto stopped 
in front, and seeing that it was his landlord he came 
forward lifting his hat. 

“Why, Peter!” cried Mr. Hansen in astonishment, “I 
thought you were a cripple unable to leave your bed for 
years.” 

“And so I was,” answered Peter, “and but for that 
blessed little angel you’ve brought into your home I should 
have been one still. The prophet said, ‘A little child shall 
lead them, and she is leading us sure. I don’t guess there 
is a house in town but what she’s entered with her 
blessing. I never used to believe in what folks call ‘old 
souls’. Sir, but now I am getting to believe in them more 
that I believe in old bodies. The child is surely an old 


48 


Extraordinary Mary 


soul come back on a big mission. And she knows she’s got 
to be about her Father’s business.” 

“0, you refer to Mary, the little girl I have adopted,” 
said Mr. Hansen, somewhat embarrassed. 

“Yes, she is very old-fashioned though in many ways 
the simple child, but what has she to do with your 
recovery?” 

“Well, Sir, I’ve attended church for years,” answered 
Peter, “I was always a student of my Bible, and I’ve been 
a great deal more of one since I had my fall. I believed 
in God Almighty like most people believe, but I never 
took into consideration the meaning of Almighty, nor that 
if He were God Almighty, there was nothing in the world 
ipipossible for Him to do. It was the little girl that got 
me to thinking. I was never a man to care for long 
sermons dressed up with flowery words. When a person 
shows me a beautiful landscape they needn’t describe its 
beauty. When I’ve got my point I want no more. And 
the little girl gave me the point when she said: “Don’t 
look at your crutches — look at God.” 

“I lay awake all night and thought about it. I opened 
the windows and looked out at the little patch I could 
see of this great and mighty world, full of a million won- 
ders, one hundred of which not one of us have seen. And 
then it came to me, this world we think so big and great, 
is but a fragment of the thoughts of the Creator, and for 
a moment I seemed to get the power of One who flung 
a million of such worlds into the ether, hung them on 
nothing, and kept them by the balance of His hand. And 
with all this power around me I had been dependent on 
those little bits of wood to bear me up!” 

Mr. Hansen looked terribly embarrassed. This kind of 
conversation was quite different from what he had ex- 
pected from his tenant. 

“I hope your healing will be permanent,” he said. 

“I don’t doubt it,” answered Peter. “The power which 
lifted me upon my feet will surely keep me there if I de- 
pend on it and not on crutches.” 


Extraordinary Mary 


49 


Mr. Hansen began to look around the house to see what 
it was needing. 

“I suppose your leaking roof doesn’t trouble you now?” 
he said, with a shade of humor in his tone. “I was talking 
with my agent yesterday, and he tells me your home is 
pretty badly out of shape.” 

“Well, sir, I used to fret over it a lot when I was sick,” 
said Peter, “but now I seem to have the faith that makes 
all possible, for I know if the Lord could heal my limbs, 
then He can heal a leaking roof, or a broken gate or an- 
other kind; though He may not do it the same way. So I 
just said: ‘It’s up to Him.’” 

Mr. Hansen didn’t visit any more that afternoon. He 
went home and thought deeply. 






CHAPTER 11. 


T ransformation 

T here was great excitement in the little town of Mt. 
Vaid when the surprising news went forth that 
alterations were to be made to all the houses. 
Carpenters and masons who had long been out of work 
got busy and the sound of the hammer and saw rang like 
music in the ears of the people. 

“Aunt Margaret” stood at the door of her cottage with 
a smile of pleasure on her face as she watched one of the 
white- jacketed men working away on the top of her roof, 
while another busily knocked up a fence around Rosa’s 
neglected little garden, so that the baby mightn’t wander 
too far away when it was able to walk. 

“What’s taken the old man?” asked one of the tenants 
in an awe-struck whisper. “He wouldn’t have done this 
two weeks ago, not if we’d begged him on all our knees.” 

Lynette’s nurse who had been sent to the town on busi- 
ness, but had paused on her way for a friendly gossip with 
the people, was ready with her answer. 

“It’s that angel of a child,” she said. “She’s turned 
the place into Heaven. I’m sure I often think she’s too 
good to be here. Such children never live; they’re just 
like blessings God has lent us for a while, and soon enough 
they find their wings and fly away.” 

“Well, I think those are the kind of souls we need here,” 
said Aunt Margaret. “There’s plenty of good folks in 
Heaven, and the Heavenly Father does well to spare us 
an angel now and then, for he’s sent us plenty of the other 
kind.” 

“It makes you feel good,” replied the nurse, “to have 
someone who is always thankful for all you do, and never 


52 


Extraordinary Mary 


kicking. I was awful homesick before she came. I fretted 
for my little sister that I’d had to leave, and always felt 
the home folks were so far away. And Miss Lynette, she 
used to be so cross and peevish, and none of them gave 
me a word of kindness. But everything’s so different now, 
and the Master’s given me a raise of wages.” 

“Yes, you do look lots better, too,” replied Aunt Mar- 
garet. “You look more real and not so bleached and pet- 
rified. My, but it’s wonderful what a bit of love will do 
if folks only knew it.” 

Mr. Hansen was also thinking how wonderful it was 
what love would do, although they didn’t know it. 

A change, such as he couldn’t understand, had come 
over him. 

When the first rains of Autumn began to fall, Mary 
came in with face aglow. 

“Aren’t you glad that Aunt Margaret’s roof is healed, 
now that you see the rain?” she said. “Doesn’t your little 
bit of sunshine feel warm ’round your neck when you 
think about it?” 

“Yes, I’m glad,” said Mr. Hansen frankly. 

“And aren’t you happy that Rosa’s broken door is 
mended and the wind doesn’t blow through on her baby?” 

“Yes, I’m happy,” he replied. 

“And aren’t you just rejoicing that they love you?” 

He smiled a little sadly. “I don’t see how they can,” 
he said. 

“^Yes, they all love you,” she repeated. “Of course they 
do. You are their Prince.” 

A shade of humor crossed his face. “Mary, what is a 
Prince?” he asked. 

“A man who does royal things,” said Mary. “Who can’t 
say an unkind word, or do an act that is unkind or mean. 
A Prince is one who does what you are doing; makes peo- 
ple happy just because he lives.” 

Mr. Hansen listened gravely as if he were listening to 
the wisdom of a sage. But sorrow filled his heart when 


Extraordinary Mary 


53 


he thought of all the many souls his life had caused to 
be unhappy. 

He looked into the child’s clear eyes, so strong and true. 
Eyes which could only see the best. “I wish I were a 
Prince, little girl,” he said quietly. “If a Prince is what 
you say, and surely those are not the Princes who wear 
the royal robes, but those who have the royal heart. But 
you have seen the Prince in me; maybe you have looked 
beyond the rubbish of my life which others see. You’ve 
looked beyond the cross exterior; you’ve seen the man I 
wish I were. You’ve seen the Prince, Mary, and so, per- 
haps, some day I may be worthy of my title.” 




CHAPTER 12. 


Saturday’s Story Hour 

M ary hadn’t been long at Miss Brown’s school be- 
fore Lynette had informed the girls of the won- 
derful stories she was able to tell. 

There were no more dull Saturday afternoons, no more 
long evenings when they met to talk over the unfair treat- 
ment they had received at school; or the latest gossip 
they had heard. 

Mary was kept as much on the go, as the seaside library 
book written by a noted author. 

In the big school room which Miss Brown allowed them 
the use of when they desired, the girls would meet and 
sit around the stove, completely carried away by the vivid 
pictures the child put as realistically before them as if 
she were throwing them on the screen. 

She had a wonderful way of weaving stories out of every- 
one’s life, and making these stories so powerful that the 
characters materialized like living beings. 

The people were no longer ordinary stones by the way- 
side. 

Rosa’s baby, through Mary’s graphic stories, had be- 
come such a child of interest that the girls were all em- 
ployed in making its clothes. 

The story of Rosa’s husband; his love and self-sacrifice, 
had been given with such intense realism that the listeners 
felt they couldn’t do enough for the wife of one who had 
been so noble and true. 


56 


Extraordinary Mary 


Mary had described Peter’s healing with eyes so inspired 
and language so eloquent that all went away that after- 
noon wishing to make the whole world well. 

Miss Brown’s life was now one of the greatest interest. 
No. longer did they fear her as the stern teacher, but were 
always planning something for her. Drawn by their 
thoughts she was getting nearer to them each day. There 
was no longer the cold distant feeling, but a feeling of 
that understanding sympathy which always should be 
between pupil and teacher. 

“Is this a sewing bee?” she asked one evening when 
she passed through the room and found the girls busy. 

“No, Mary tells us all stories,” answered Lynette, “and 
if they’re not true, we’ve got to make them come true. 
There’s going to be a baby show soon, and Rosa Ryan is 
going to see if her baby can get the prize. We’re making 
things for it now,” she added, holding up a little pink 
hood, which she had embroidered. “It used to be the most 
homely little thing to look at, but since Mary told us about 
it we’ve kept taking it clothes, and I guess it will be the 
sweetest baby in the show, and everyone’s going to love 
it to bits.” 

“This is a very practical story, Mary,” said Miss Brown 
kindly, as she picked up the pretty little garments and 
looked at them in turn. “It’s nice to make reality out of 
your dreams.” 

“Mary says it’s no use making pictures if we don’t ex- 
pect them to come true,” answered Grace Stanton. “It 
would be like sitting for a photograph and then not hav- 
ing it afterwards.” 

It was so cozy inside with the bright fire blazing, watch- 
ing the heavy snow flakes falling and carpeting the ground 
with a garment of stainless purity. 

“They look just like white butterflies coming down,” 
said Lynette. 

“Yes, and they seem to carry a beautiful message like 
the angels brought. ‘Fear not, for behold I bring you glad 
tidings of great joy,’ ” answered Mary. 


Extraordinary Mary 


57 


Mr. Hansen was surprised to think he hadn’t felt the 
coming storm in his bones, and he was curious to see how 
he would continue in health as the winter went on. 

“It’s the little bit of sunshine you hung around your 
neck when you did those kind deeds,” Mary assured him. 
“You couldn’t feel cold when you made others feel warm.” 

And Mr. Hansen began to think there was some truth in 
her words as the days went on and he felt no ill effect, but 
was even able to walk in the snow. 

Lynette, who had always been kept as close as a hot 
house plant, was enjoying the winter like she had never 
done before. 

It was the first time she had ever seen a real winter, 
and there was in her a little fear of the heavy storms and 
blizzards when far out of sight of home. 

“I don’t like the sky looking so dark,” she said fearfully 
one afternoon just before sunset, when Mary and she 
were returning from their visit to Rosa’s baby. 

Rosa had received them with open arms. 

Warm and comfy in her newly done-up house, she sat 
with her child on her lap, in front of the fire. 

She felt she could never think enough of all Mary had 
done for her in bringing the sunshine back into her life. 

“And the baby’s getting stronger every day,” she said 
as she kissed her. “And oh. Miss, I just love her like I 
thought I could never love again, and I am doing every day 
what I know will please my dear boy.” 

The children had stayed longer than they intended, for 
Lynette became interested in the dressing of the baby, and 
now they were on the wide road again, the north wind was 
blowing and there was every evidence of a coming storm. 

Darkness was descending rapidly. The mountains in 
their white outline stood like ghosts against the black of 
the sky. The leafless branches of the trees began to bend 
and moan as the wind whipped through them. 

The snow was beginning to fall in thick, heavy flakes. 

“I don’t like the dark,” cried Lynette, as she clung to 
Mary. 


58 


Extraordinary Mary 


“If we don’t have the dark we can’t see the stars,” ans- 
wered Mary. “There’s two of them now. One for each of 
us. I believe they came out to show us the way.’ 

The snow began to swirl in the cutting wind, and stung 
their faces. 

Lynette put up her hands to keep it off, and a cry broke 
from her lips. 

“Don’t you remember how you called the flakes little 
white butterflies?” said Mary. “Well, little white butter- 
flies never hurt any one.” 

The darkness grew denser. Blinded by the snow it was 
almost impossible to see. 

Lynette began to cry bitterly. 

“Mary, I know we are lost, and you don’t want to say 
so,” she said. 

“We cannot be lost,” Mary replied in that tone of convic- 
tion which was going to make her the power in years to 
come. “We cannot be lost, because wherever we are we 
cannot lose God, and He cannot lose us.” 

And as she spoke there came a wonderful consciousness 
of that something, so close, yet unseen, the warmth of a 
soothing presence, of a power which was guiding their 
footsteps, though she did not know by what means. 

“Lo, I am with you always,” she whispered softly. 

“Always,” she repeated aloud. 

“Don’t be afraid, Lynette dear, the light will come.” 


CHAPTER 13. 


More Miracles 

4 i IT’S only another of Extraordinary Mary’s 
f I miracles,” said Ethel Price, when a week 
? later Lynette told how they had found their 
way out of the storm, “They’re getting so frequent now, 
that we are not going to think much about them.” 

“Of course, you’ve all heard that Rosa’s baby took the 
first prize at the show, and its picture is going to be shown 
on the screen tonight.” 

The girls all set up a cheer. 

“And Rosa’s the proudest girl in town,” she continued. 
“And I’m beginning to think that if we keep this up the 
whole world will be like a fairy tale soon.” 

“Well, I think all things are possible when they tell me 
Miss Brown is going to be married,” cried Bessie. “Why, 
I thought she was a school hat-hook forever and ever.” 

The girls flung up their hands and gasped with amaze- 
ment. 

“Miss Brown going to be married! Pray who told you 
that?” 

“O, lots of folks know it. It’s all ’round the town and 
I believe it all came about through our bouquets. She 
never knew how to smile and look pretty until we began 
giving her flowers and filling them up with kind thoughts, 
A man would no more think of making love to her six 
months ago than a boy would make love to sour rhubarb.” 

“But this is an old lover returned, which makes it far 
more romantic,” said Jennie. “They were old sweethearts 
at school, and she’d never heard of him for twenty years, 
and he came back again all of a sudden. It’s just like a 
story, and Mary will make something beautiful out of it.” 

Mary seemed to be thinking deeply. 


60 


Extraordinary Mary 


“Maybe she made the connection through the flowers," 
she said softly, but the girls did not realize the philosophy 
of her words. 

“Twenty years since — It doesn’t seem possible,” cried 
Ethel. 

“O, yes it does,” cried Mary quickly. “My father is 
coming to me just like that. He is waiting to come, and 
I’m waiting for him; but God will send him at the right 
time.” 

* * * * * 

“And you really think your father will come back, 
Mary?” said Mr. Hansen, when she sat at his feet in the 
firelight that evening. 

Lynette had been telling him all the stories of the day. 
The others had gone over his head without much atten- 
tion, but on this last one he contemplated. 

“Yes,” she replied, looking into his face. “I know he 
will. He will come back because I have mother’s message 
to give him, and because he belongs to me.” 

“It is nice to have your faith, little girl,” he said. And 
then for a while he watched her in silence. 


CHAPTER 14. 


The Test 


INTER melted into the flowers of Spring and now 
the soft warmth of the Summer was in the air. 



Blossom and bud sent forth their fragrance, 
and the sun never shone upon a happier little town than 
that of Mt. Vaid. 

Mr. Hansen was no longer the wailing, complaining 
invalid. A new lease of life seemed to have been given 
to him. 

No longer were his tenants like sheep in a far-off field. 

He had become one of them, going in and out of their 
homes, suggesting improvements to his agent, and help- 
ing them to turn every patch of their gardens into good 
use, so that they had no difficulty in meeting their rent 
and living in comfort. 

The transformation in his health and temper seemed 
also to affect his wife. 

Always negative and inclined to fall to the vibrations 
of those around her, she had never known what happiness 
was by her husband’s side. 

Just as easily, however, she began to absorb this differ- 
ent condition and to find her interests in the people and 
in their homes, growing as strong as her husband’s. 

Beautiful Summer’s face was now peering through the 
woods, and on one of those rich golden days, when light 
and warmth make life a glory, Mary and Lynette went into 
the fields with their baskets for flowers. 

They climbed to the top of the mountain and looked 
down into the valley where the homes nestled cozily amidst 
the green trees. In their coat of fresh paint of various 
colors they resembled Easter eggs laid in a nest. 


62 


Extraordinary Mary 


“And they’ve all got a garden, and they’re all of them 
happy,” cried Mary gladly. “O, Lynette, is it not wonder- 
ful how good God has been?” 

“Yes, but be careful, Mary,” Lynette suddenly cried. 
“You are just on the edge where the ground is uncertain. 
That’s where the landslide took place last year.” 

Mary was reaching eagerly forward. By the stones in 
the distance the rich red blossoms were growing. She 
rushed fearlessly towards them, but the soil began to slip 
under her feet. 

Lynette threw up her hands with a cry. It was impos- 
sible to save her now. The ground had given way beneath 
her. She had fallen down — down into the darkness. Ly- 
nette did not dare to look where. She covered her face 
with her hands. 

Then all in a moment, as if some voice had spoken, she 
found herself saying, what Mary many a time said : “Noth- 
ing shall by any means hurt you, for He shall give His 
angels charge.” 

Repeating these words she rushed back to the town, and 
soon every house was empty and the crowd had gathered 
at the spot. 

“God — but it was a horrible fall,” cried the doctor, who 
was one of the first on the scene. “It was a wonder she 
wasn’t dashedTo pieces.” 

Mary lay on the grass like a sleeping angel. Her eyes 
were closed, but she was breathing evenly. There didn’t 
seem to be a bruise on her body. 

Mrs. Hansen picked up the little basket of scattered 
flowers she had been gathering, and began to cry bitterly. 
“She will never gather any more,” she said. 

“Yes, she will,” said Lynette strongly. “Mary will be 
well again. She wouldn’t be Extraordinary Mary if she 
were not.” 

♦ *♦*♦***♦* 

“She is still unconscious,” said the doctor when he came 
out of the hospital, to which Mary had been taken. “The 
spine is very badly injured. That is all we can tell today. 


Extraordinary Mary 


63 


She must see no one, even if she recovers consciousness.” 

“The spine—” began Mr. Hansen. “That is bad.” And 
then his mind began to travel rapidly to all the invalids 
he had known — helpless invalids through a fall like this. 
It seemed impossible to picture Mary just like them. 

“You don’t think it will affect her walking?” he said 
slowly. 

“How could it help it?” asked the doctor, “but of course, 
we must not look too far ahead. In a few days we can 
tell better. 

He went on his way, and Mr. Hansen stood alone. 

“A cripple!” he said suddenly. “Mary a cripple — O, 
poor little ‘Wonder Girl,’ what will your wonderland avail 
you now?” 

He was startled by a light touch on his arm. 

Lynette was standing by him. Her face was pale, but 
there was an expression on it such as he had never seen 
before. 

“Uncle,” she said, “God was able to make Peter walk, 
and so He can heal Mary. All the people in the town are 
asking for it, and I want you to ask too.” 

“I will Lynette,” he answered slowly. “If my poor pray- 
ers can be of any use I’ll join them with the rest. For as 
this blessed child has worked for all of us and helped 
us every one, the time has come when we must all help 
her.” 




.It 


1 y 




/ 


A a 


) • • f 

J * 


.V 


.1 


f ^ ' . ' 




• 


. \ 



CHAPTER 15. 


The Night of Doubt 

M ary was suddenly conscious of something which 
enabled her to open her eyes and look around. 
“Where am I?” she asked, gently. 

“You are in the hospital,” answered the nurse. “They 
brought you here to make you well after you had the fall.” 

“O, I remember,” she said quickly. “The flowers looked 
so pretty there — why did God let me fall?” 

The nurse did not reply. There was something so 
pathetic in the question. 

Mary seemed to be thinking deeply. Her hand was rest- 
ing on her head ; memory was coming back in rapid waves, 
and her eyes turned towards the window through which 
the evening sunshine fell. 

A vase of rich red roses glittered in the -light. She held 
her hands towards them with a smile. 

“Some one sent those for me,” she said. 

She tried to raise herself to look more closely, but a 
sudden something, quite unknown to her, made her fall 
back on the pillows. 

She turned to the nurse as if for an explanation. 

“I suppose this is like people feel when they get sick,” 
she said, “but I was never sick before.” 

“Then you’re a lucky little girl,” the nurse said kindly. 
“This place is full of people who are sick like you.” 

Mary’s face brightened, and suddenly a mist seemed 
lifted from her brain. 

“Then maybe that is why God sent me here,” she cried. 
“He maybe sent me here to make them well. I’ll just call 
all my little fairy thoughts and send them out, then no 
one will be sick or miserable. They’ll know the good God 
loves them, every one.” 


66 


Extraordinary Mary 


She clasped her hands and closed her eyes in silence. 

The nurse stood watching her. She thought that she had 
never seen a face so calm and beautiful. 

It was like the picture of a sleeping angel, or a cherub 
hewn out of stone. She was conscious, too, as she stood 
there, of a sense of lovely rest, as if a strong, cool hand 
had been suddenly laid upon her restless, worried heart. 

“God bless the child," she said unconsciously. “If any- 
one gets well, she ought to." 

“It may take months — it may take years — or possibly 
she will never get well," said the doctor, after leaving 
Mary’s room that evening. 

Both he and the nurse had thought she was sleeping, 
but Mary overheard, and for a moment, in place of the 
bright, beautiful thoughts which she had held, a thought 
of doubt flew in with chilly wings. 

With quick imagrination she saw herself, like those poor 
people she had often helped, wheeled around from day to 
day in wheel chairs; or lying upon her back upon the 
lounge. 

“They don't believe that God can make them well," she 
said," but I know that He can do all things." 

She turned her eyes to the open window. The soft dark- 
ness of the beautiful night was healing. The love of God 
smiled down on her through the brightness of the glitter- 
ing stars. 

The scent of a thousand flowers ascended on the warm 
air in prayers of thankfulness for life,’ and the little girl 
joined in the prayer, and trusting herself as lovingly to 
that great Power as the stars and flowers had done, she 
fell asleep. 


CHAPTER 16. 


The Joy of the Morning 

I T didn’t seem strange to her that she should get up in 
the morning. The consciousness of pain was gone, 
but there was a peculiar lightness in her body which, 
for a moment, made her feel unreal. 

She had slept well. The nurse was sleeping. The hos- 
pital was still. 

She threw her robe around her, and quietly walked along 
the hall, out of the door, and into the garden. 

The silence of the dawn was over all. The wet mists of 
the night were rising from the earth and ascending up- 
wards like sacramental incense. 

The amber dash of color in the East was burning into 
gold. 

Mary stood wrapped in the healing silence. 

Slowly as the great King of the Heavens ascended 
through the flames of color, the birds began to call each 
other from the trees, and the flowers to raise their heads 
and open their eyes after their refreshing sleep in the soft 
darkness. Scented Nature shook out her robes in the 
breeze, and Mary reached her arms upward responsive to 
the blessing God was holding out to all. 

‘‘A new Heaven and a new earth — God spoke — and it 
was done.” 

And again she uttered: ‘‘God spoke and it was done!” 

********* * 

“And our little girl arose and walked and came back to 
us sound and well,” said Mr. Hansen, when, two weeks 
later, Mary sat with him in the garden under the arch 
of full white roses. “It is wonderful to have your faith.” 


68 


Extraordinary Mary 


Mary raised her eyes to his face. Clear, lustrous eyes, 
unshadowed by a worry or a care. 

There was something so wonderful in their depths that 
the consciousness of the greatness of the soul came sud- 
denly upon him. 

He had always thought of her as the little “Wonder 
Girl” — Extraordinary Mary — a happy and contented child, 
full of imagination, faith and dreams; but now it dawned 
upon him that there was something more than this. That 
something great was waiting in the world for her. 

“Mary,” he said, “tell me — what do you want to do in 
life? What’s your ideal? Your ambition? For I know 
with all your dreams you must have one more golden than 
the rest.” 

“I don’t know,” said Mary slowly. “I am waiting. There 
is something here that talks to me. A something warm 
and beautiful that has lived with me since mother went 
away. It folds its wings around me so that I never could 
feel lonely. So that I never could be lost. So that I never 
could be sad. It sings to me in the daytime, and it soothes 
me when I go to sleep. 

It’s something that made the stable beautiful ; that 
beautifies the things that might have been coarse and ugly. 
It’s the something that held its arms out to me when I 
fell down the mountain. It’s the something that talks 
through me when I try to help another, and I want to tell 
the whole world of this something. I want them all to feel 
it like I do.” 

“I understand, little girl,” said Mr. Hansen. “And may 
you never fall short of your ideal. Hope for it — live for it 
— and some day — some day, I believe, that beautiful some- 
thing will lead you into the city of your heart’s desire.” 


CHAPTER 17. 


Every Golden Dream 
Came True 

T he weeks passed on; the months, the years, bringing 
wonderful changes with them. 

Mary was twenty-one. She had grown up before 
them like a tender plant, and had developed into strong 
and powerful womanhood. 

The dreams of her childhood were practical realities. 
Mt. Vaid was now the little town that she had always 
seen. A town made up of happy and contented people, in 
pleasant homes with pretty and useful gardens. 

No lack, no want of any kind but what their generous 
landlord was ready with supply, or a suggestion by what 
means to get it. 

Mrs. Hansen walked by her husband’s side. She had 
found her youth again with him. 

The knowledge that the people loved her, had broken 
down the sense of loneliness which all must feel who live a 
useless life. 

Lynette had married happily and had gone abroad. 

Pete was no longer there; he had become the travelling 
evangelist, going from State to State with the simple but 
far-reaching story of how he had learned to walk the 
water. Rosa lived a life of sweet contentment, working for 
her child. 

In and out of her garden, free from the bondage of rent 
now. Aunt Margaret wandered day by day, blessing the 
power which had made her limbs grow stronger so that 
she was no longer fastened to her chair. 

One after another the school girls had gone, carrying 
their blessings with them. 


70 


Extraordinary Mary 


Mary still remained. She knew that something was 
awaiting her, but she kept on waiting till it came. Wait- 
ing and serving in her quiet, unassuming way, beautifying 
everything she touched with the love that makes things 
perfect. 

On whatever errand she was called — into the homes of 
rich or poor; however little or how much she said, it mat- 
tered not, she left the consciousness of Heaven’s illumina- 
tion there. 

At the silent hour of midnight her soothing hands were 
laid upon the tired world like the hands of a loving mother 
on the sleepless eyes of her child. 

The story of the simple girl miracle worker had been 
noised abroad, and every evening, just at the hour of sun- 
set, in the fields, beyond the everlasting hills, the sick from 
far and near were brought that she might heal them by 
her touch or by her prayers. 

Surrounded by the golden light, her dress falling ’round 
her softly as an angel’s garment, or a shining cloud, she 
stood with outstretched hands of loving welcome, as over 
the hills the weary and the heavy laden came as to some 
cool and restful fountain, crying for the perfect life. 

Quietly, gently, with her eyes upon the sunset, she said 
the prayer of faith for each. 

If all did not get the instantaneous healing they went 
away with hope and cheer. 

They went to meet the storms of life more bravely. 

They went to see the glory of the sunrise, not the clouds. 

They went with faith in God that was awakened. 

They went to love their neighbors better, to forgive their 
enemies, to have more kindly thoughts towards the world. 

Over the hills one evening came a man storm tossed and 
weary. A man who had drunk life to the dregs and writhed 
’neath compensation’s chastening hand. 

His sun-browned, darkened face told of a foreign climate. 

His clothes were rich and costly as a Prince, yet he 
walked on foot, and walked alone. 


Extraordinary Mary 


7{ 

All that the world’s physicians aid could give him had 
been done, and now he waited for the end. 

He didn’t want to pass out of the body. The knowledge 
of the incompleteness of his life stung him like hornets. 
He was crying to he knew not what, to be made whole. 
Over the hill he came as though magnetized by power un- 
known to him. Unbelieving, yet with curiosity aroused, he 
listened to the story of the crowd. 

He followed, yet he knew not why. It seemed as if 
across that mountain a hand was held, strong, white and 
beautiful, which sought his own. 

Sunlight and shadow fell across the hills. The sky 
was one bright blaze of gold. 

The seekers felt as if Heaven’s gates were open to show 
the presence of the healing angel there. 

In the pure radiance of her beauty Mary stood before 
them with the light of ages in her inspirational eyes. 

It was a girl’s face, almost a child’s, but shining with 
the wisdom of the past. 

Softly and clearly her voice fell on the evening air in 
words of hope and consolation. 

A voice that went through the stranger like an electric 
current which he couldn’t understand. 

Dazed by a sense of memory, he sank on his knees in 
front of her. She unclasped her folded hands and laid 
them on his head. They were electrical with the power 
she had gathered while at prayer. 

He raised his eyes, but she did not heed him. She was 
reaching to the strength which makes all whole. 

The rich rays of the golden sunset wrapped her ’round 
in flames of living light. 

Then with a smile of Heavenly beauty, as the message 
for which she had always waited, was given out of the 
ether, softly and clearly, she uttered: 

“Who forgiveth all thine iniquity. Who healeth all thy 
diseases. Neither do I condemn thee — go thy way and sin 
no more.” 

A silence like the hush of morning fell over all. Not 
a sound was uttered — not a word spoken. 


72 


Extraordinary Mary 


The man had fallen unconscious at her feet. 

It was like a Heaven’s awakening to feel the touch of his 
child’s hand on his head, and hear the voice so like the one 
of long ago, speaking from what seemed the silence of the 
ages. 

“Child of the only woman I ever loved,” he said, as he 
looked into her eyes. “God brought you back to me after 
all these years of seeking. It seems as if I had lived so 
many lives since I left you both for foreign climes with 
the promise of a quick return. 

Lives of sin and sorrow. Lives which I want to draw 
the curtain on forever. But you were waiting to receive 
me. You were waiting with her message. Surely such 
everlasting love will wash away my sin.” 

Mary had never doubted but what he was her father. 
She knew that sometime, somewhere, they must meet again, 
and she left God to decide which way. 

And the power which never fails in guidance had drawn 
him right to her feet to hear the message from her lips, 
“Neither do I condemn thee. Go and sin no more.” 

And in those words he was made whole. 

So they sat in the silence of love together — these two — 
talking little of the past, and little of the future until the 
sunset hour had come. 

“And now as God has healed you, so you must heal His 
people,” said Mary gently. “They are coming to the 
mountain now and we will go together. Let us make real 
to them the story we have proved. That the everlasting 
love of God can never fail His children. That His patience 
with them is never exhausted. That His arms are round 
about them, like the mother’s round her child. 

That the vitalizing power of the Christ is still going 
forth to heal — to strengthen — to raise the dead. Help me 
to tell these weary, seeking souls that the light of the 
world is awaiting them — and the Kingdom of God is here 
and now.” 

He gave his hand into hers, like the hand of a little child, 
and they went forth to speak the word together. 


% 

. t 





I * 


» 


» 




I ■ • 




•* » 


V 


\ 


\ 




>■ 







r 


i 




* 




y.*' 

4 


\ 




4 




f 


•f 





I 

I 







t 



4 











1 





I 

t 


k 








I 



4 


i 

I 

I 

T 


> 


^ % 


I 


4 


I 





i . 


* 



I • 


* 




# 


tf 

i 




\ 


* 


»*>r ^ 






I 

4 

.♦ • 




I 




1 


T I 



f 


$ 


f 



• I 


* 


• ^ 



I 


♦ 




^ A 



r 

t 


I 

4 


% 






f 


t 



• » • 

















